S.N. Evans
Bio
Christian, Writer of Fiction and Fantasy; human. I have been turning Caffeine into Words since 2007. If you enjoy my work, please consider liking, following, reposting on Social Media, or tipping. <3
God Bless!
Stories (70/0)
This one old journaling practice has changed my life!
What is a commonplace book? Oxford Languages defines a commonplace book as "a book into which notable extracts from other works are copied for personal use." I first heard of it as a kid reading about a character who kept one. I'm not certain which book exactly, but I'm pretty sure it had something to do with Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events and the V.F.D. And I am enjoying a hit of nostalgia while writing and researching, locating the quote I remember from his novel, "Lemony Snicket: The Unauthorized Autobiography."
By S.N. Evans2 years ago in Journal
My Health Journey with God
I make no show of hiding my faith in God or my weight. I am over thirty and weigh over ten times that number. I am living with several chronic illness diagnoses, including Hashimoto's Disease, Fibromyalgia, Depression, Anxiety, and possible PCOS (as of November 2022.) Due to several circumstances outside my control, maintaining weight has been difficult, let alone losing it. Because of the increased weight and Fibromyalgia, I am in near-constant pain. Some days I can barely walk, let alone adhere to a daily exercise routine. Yet, I am not here to garner sympathy, far from it. Instead, I want to use this article to do the one thing I was created to do, praise my God.
By S.N. Evans2 years ago in Longevity
What I've Learned
I did not pursue creative writing consistently in college. As a result, I barely have half a notebook of writing from that season of my life—all creativity hammered out of me by exhaustion and study rigor. At some point, I felt I had lost something previously obsessively inexorable from my identity— creative writing. So when ideas seemed to gush forth from me as a teenager like an ever-flowing fountain, I put writing before all else. I ignored subjects that did not interest me in high school. Instead, I sat in the back of the classroom with my notebook and pen and wrote— to the chagrin of my parents and teachers, and failed high school algebra.
By S.N. Evans2 years ago in Journal
The Glōm
He stood at the edge of the forest, near the edge of Barrow. His dark eyes and curly dark hair gave his ageless face a cherubic sweetness. As he leaned against a tree, a woman crossed his path. A fairy in white silk with glimmering pink wings and large doe-like eyes. She sat on a stump nearby at twilight, weeping into a bouquet of flowers.
By S.N. Evans2 years ago in Fiction
Night Market
Sylli Lane wove her way between patrons, balancing her dinner on a tray. Her long curly hair concealed her pointed ears, and a stone-gray cloak hid her wings. Sylli Lane was a fae, a type of creature from Lolandil, another of its errant residents trying to find a way home.
By S.N. Evans2 years ago in Fiction
Hellhound Radio
"Of course," John grunted as his truck stopped short of the swollen creek. But, of course, it was too dangerous to cross. The torrential rain the past few days had bloated the usually lazy creekbed into a muddy churning monstrosity. The water would tear his small truck downstream.
By S.N. Evans2 years ago in Fiction
Sleep Paralysis
The dim light of the night washes the room gray; deep shadows twist and pool in the corners of the room—silhouettes of toys and furniture cast ghoulish shadows upon the papered walls. Your wide eyes rove the room, seeking whatever woke you. The house is silent, except for the fevered thump of your heart. Nothing appears out of place; the closet is closed, and your bedroom door stands slightly ajar allowing in the comforting glow of yellow light.
By S.N. Evans2 years ago in Horror
Blood, Sweat, and Tears
Four-Thirty in the morning, my father rolls out of bed, fixes his lunch, has a quick coffee, and drives the thirty minutes to the nearest city. This has been his routine for as long as I can remember. He works hard for a pontoon boat factory, every job from constructor to painter and foreman. Through recessions and the company changed hands and layoffs. My father has been the backbone of the factory. Even a bummed right knee, injured before I can remember, would not stop him. He worked overtime through pain and exhaustion.
By S.N. Evans2 years ago in Families
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